


Feysand x Mornings

by literarynonsensefics



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 01:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarynonsensefics/pseuds/literarynonsensefics
Summary: Follow me on tumblr @literarynonsense!





	Feysand x Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @literarynonsense!

Rhys flew up in bed, reaching out next to him where to where Feyre slept.  What was that sound?   

“Feyre?”  His heartbeat quickened when he noticed that  _she was not there_. “Feyre?”   Rhys brushed back the hair that had fallen into his face and grabbed his pants from the floor.  He had kicked them off in the middle of the night like normal, still plagued by the nightmares of the war, but now the cold was makeing him wish he hadn’t.  A flurry of thoughts flashed through his head, and Rhys leaned against the door to their bedroom as each took root, deeper and deeper.   _What if she was taken?  What if she’s gone?  What if she left-?_

“Rhys.”  Rhysand turned and saw Feyre standing in their hallway, clutching a book in her hands.  “Are you alright?  I’m sorry if I worried you.”  

He breathed out, immensely relieved and crossed over to her to rest his head in the crook of her neck.  “Yeah, just…I was worried.”

“You need to stop overreacting,” Feyre teased, and pulled him into a hug.  “I was just reading.  Want to join me?”

“Of course.”  Feyre took him by the hand and lead him into the library, dark and ambiently lit from a fireplace in the corner.  She sunk onto a couch, and Rhys sat right next to her.  

“Any recommendations?” Feyre asked.  He shook his head.  “Great,” her face was alight and Rhys loved how easily she smiled, how freely she could express her happiness.  There was a time when neither were able to be themselves like this, waking up in the middle of the night just to read to each other for hours.

“‘There once was a beautiful girl trapped in a slave camp.  For though she was young, she had been the city’s most feared assassin for years…’”  Rhys watched Feyre as she read, hardly paying attention to the story.  Her fingers played with the edges of a blanket between them, and he lifted it, cocooning it over their heads.  “What are you doing?”

“You looked cold.”

“I’m not cold, but I’ll save your fragile ego and pretend I am.”  Feyre smiled, and Rhys couldn’t help himself as he inched closer to her.  “I love you, Rhys.”

“I love you,”  He kissed the top of her head. “Feyre, darling.”  


End file.
